You Give Love a Bad Name
by Marvelicious
Summary: Destiel set in the post-apocalyptic future of 2014. AU starting just before the attack on Lucifer - where there is trouble in a place that will never know paradise. Warnings: Gun play, rape, slight d/s, dubcon, abuse and drug use. Plot with a lot of porn.
1. And This is Heaven

**This was originally written for a Blindfold_Spn kink meme challenge over on livejournal, set in the very angsty future AU of 2014. I liked it so much, it is now its own 'verse. Basically just an excuse to write lots and lots of gratuitous porn, but a plot snuck in there somewhere!**

**Reviews are love!**

"No, stay." Dean tells Castiel as he is about to go 'mobilize the grunts' for their attack on Lucifer. Risa can do it herself for all Dean cares - they'll be ready one way or another, and right now, he has other plans for Cas. The confused angel does exactly as he says, sinking back into the chair he'd occupied at their meeting only moments before. Then, "Leave us," He tells everyone else, closing and locking the door behind him, so now it's just him and his angel, the way it should be.

"Dean, what - ?" Castiel starts to ask him, but Dean isn't having that. He picks up the colt from the table and holds it to his own lips in a gesture for Cas to be silent.

"Do you see this?" Dean asks him, holding the gun out, stroking a hand along it. He's going to kill Lucifer with this gun. Hell, with this gun, he's invincible and it's a power trip just to hold it. "This gun can kill anything Cas, even you - even angels, and god knows you're no angel any more, are you?"

Cas may be a bit inebriated still, but he can still pick up on the cues that Dean is giving him. His harsh tone, the sadistic glint in his eyes, they're reserved for only one person and that's Castiel. The angel swallows thickly, leaning back in his chair. He's terrified of Dean when he gets like this, goes into one of his moods, and Dean knows it. Uses it, in fact.

He swaggers up to the angel, not stopping until he's standing directly between Castiel's knees. Laughs, as he raises the gun and Castiel goes cross-eyed trying to keep it in his sight before Dean runs it gently along the side of his face, making him shudder. He knows his angel is scared - of the gun, of him even. That's the best part.

Dean is getting hard in his jeans as he brings the gun down to circle Castiel's heart, the angel letting out a miserable whine of protest that goes easily ignored. "What Cas?" Dean asks him mockingly, "Don't you trust me?"

No, is the first thing that comes to Castiel's mind, but he chokes it back. He does trust Dean - trusts him with his life - but it's a little hard to remember that right now when he's about a second away from potentially taking that life. Still, he breathes out a shaky "yes" because if he doesn't, then Dean might just kill him.

"Good." And then abruptly he's moving on yet again, stroking Castiel's crotch with the tip of the gun absentmindedly as he continues thoughtfully, "You know, we never did test whether this gun would work on an angel Cas," and the angel in question has never felt so exposed sitting in a fucking chair before. He's trembling with the effort of trying to keep still, because if he moves, Dean might shoot.

Just as suddenly though, Dean changes tactics, pulling the gun away. "Kneel." He commands Cas, and the angel is really too terrified to do anything but obey. He slides bonelessly off of the chair, puddling at Dean's feet, so close that he can feel Dean's denim-clad hard on pressed against his face. His eyes are prickling, and he's about to cry from the relief of not having that godawful gun pointed at him anymore. He looks up at Dean, trying to convey his gratitude, and Dean laughs.

That sends a shiver down Castiel's spine faster than anything, the fear rushing right back and dripping obviously from his eyelashes, because Dean still has that hard, hungry look to him and now he's pointing the gun right at Castiel's forehead.

"Dean, please," The angel sobs, wishing he would just snap out of it, please! There are tears running down his face, and his breath is catching in his throat as he implores his first lover not to kill him. Dimly he's trying to figure it out - why is this happening? Does Dean not want him, not need him anymore? "Please, I'll stop whatever," Castiel begs, "I'll stop the orgies, the drugs, I'll train harder, anything Dean,"

He's silenced by the click of the hammer being pulled back. Dean - God - help me, save me please! Castiel shuts his eyes tightly, hoping that doing so will make it all go away. Or whatever, but he can't keep his eyes open for this. His entire body is trembling and he can't control it, and he's fighting the impulse to reach out and hug himself to Dean's strong legs like maybe that will make this nightmare stop, or at least ground him some, because right now Cas is dizzy and sick, about to pass out, or throw up, or maybe even piss his pants. Because terrified doesn't even cover it anymore.

"Open." All of a sudden, there's cold metal being pressed against Castiel's lips - the tip of the gun, but he does what Dean commands him to all the same, wondering why Dean has to play with him before he kills his angel because he can't take it.

"Suck on it," Dean continues in his dark, dominating tone, and Castiel does without question. He draws the gun into his mouth and sucks on the barrel like Dean told him to. Maybe, hopefully, it will please Dean - Cas will please Dean.

"Oh yeah Cas," Dean moans, and the angel dares to open his eyes for the first time, seeing Dean's eyes on him almost feverishly, stroking himself through his jeans as he watches. "Like it's me babe," He breathes, and this is some sick joke, but Castiel can't help but starting to feel hopeful, just a little bit, returning to the task at hand with as much energy as he can muster.

It's not long before Dean drops his pants. He's gone commando, of course. It's a bit distracting, and Castiel's mouth is watering at the sight of Dean's hard cock. He wants to take it in his mouth so badly, wants to make Dean feel good like only he really knows how, just wants to please him. But Dean hasn't told him that he can, and there is still a gun in his mouth. A gun that can kill him, as Dean had pointed out.

As if realizing that he's been distracted, Dean jabs the gun further into the back of Castiel's throat, making him gag, and the sight definitely caught on the roof of his mouth, because now it hurts something awful and Cas can taste his own blood. Dean doesn't notice, or doesn't care, but either way, Cas returns his attentions to the gun, trying to pretend that it's really Dean and trying to forget how the safety is off and one little brush of that trigger and he's dead.

Finally, Dean comes with a load groan of "Cas," painting the angels face with ropes of cum that mingle with his tears. There's a click from the gun, and Castiel flinches, unable to help it, whimpering pitifully. But it's just Dean putting the safety back on.

Castiel watches from his position on the floor as Dean tucks himself back into his jeans, slipping the colt into his jacket. The angel has never felt so worn out, so utterly exhausted and sore in his life, still trembling from all of the adrenaline running through his system. He's still a bit dizzy, maybe even more so, and feels like he might pass out at any minute, but Dean won't even look at him.

"Clean yourself up and meet us by the trucks," Dean commands finally, facing the door, "We leave in ten." Then he leaves, the door swinging shut behind him with a loud bang that makes Castiel filch again. But he's alone, and there's no gun in sight. He's covered with the very reminder of his lover - Dean's cum all over his face - and yet Cas has never felt so used, so alone, so empty.


	2. Wicked Game

It's a thirty minute drive to the compound – a short ride in all respects, especially one to the death. No, for Lucifer, half an hour is not a bad commute.

Dean's driving, and Castiel's sitting in the passenger's seat, wishing he could think of something to say. He's buzzing a little bit from the pills he took a few moments before, and maybe that's why his lips are loose enough to allow him to speak, when he really knows he shouldn't.

"We're all gonna die," He says with a grin, unable to keep a little giggle out of his voice from the sheer oddity of what he's saying. It feels weird to say it, as if acknowledging that fact should be taboo somehow. So Cas says it again, trying to be serious and keep a straight face as he tells Dean, "I'm finally going to die today." Of all the times that he's thought he would die, it's nearly certain – practically guaranteed – today.

Dean looks over at him, expression betraying his shock before it schools itself back into the usual hard lines. "You're not going to die Cas." His tone is fierce, but there's a certain sadness in it, maybe even regret, and that's what Castiel can't understand.

Dean grabs his hand then, repeating himself as he looks into Castiel's eyes, begging him to understand that. "I won't let anything touch you," He assures the fallen angel just before he returns his eyes to the road, and Cas can't help but be confused.

"You can't promise that." He warns Dean, knowing full well that Dean can't protect him from everything, and at the same time wondering why he'd want to. He knows he's useless to Dean now – Dean has Risa and Jane, and a whole load of other girls. He has people that can fight, real warriors, and not washed up, drug addled ex angels. Cas knows what he is, and it sucks, but he's going to die anyway so there's no use trying to fix him now. Besides, he's probably past fixing at this point.

"I can't, but I am," Dean tells him, continuing to glare out the windshield. "Look, I know I haven't been so good to you recently, what with the apocalypse and all…" He trails off, clearing his throat, aborting whatever he might have said. "Whatever happens Cas, I love you."

Green eyes train themselves on Castiel again, looking for his reaction, and Cas doesn't know how to respond. His head feels much too fuzzy to be dealing with this kind of thing, and he just knows he's going to say the wrong thing and make Dean mad and besides, Dean must be joking, because he's fairly sure the human doesn't love him anymore, as much as Cas wishes he did. At the same time though, his heart is soaring, because 'I love you' is a big thing to come from Dean, and Castiel would do anything to hear him say it one more time, but Dean is offering it up to him with no strings attached. Which makes Castiel wonder what strings are really attached, and now it's been entirely too long and he's still sitting there with a slightly stoned look on his face, and Dean is back to glaring at the passing scenery.

"What do you want me to say?" Castiel finally asks, figuring he might as well be straight forward, because Dean's already mad at him again and there's going to be hell to pay either way.

Dean sighs heavily. "God, Cas, nothing. I don't want anything from you, okay? Say what you want, or not. Whatever. It doesn't matter." He sounds defeated, and again Castiel can't understand. This doesn't sound like their fearless leader talking anymore. He's not hard, not angry, and Cas has forgotten what that was like coming from Dean, or how to deal with it.

He used to dream about Dean like this, wished it could go back to how it used to be between them, but it's different now. It feels like there's a stranger sitting next to him. Where's the pain, the terror? Castiel will love Dean until the end, with all of his heart. But it's been a million years, or so it seems, since he's heard it back. Frankly, he'd given up hope Dean would ever return the sentiment again.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Castiel asks, studying Dean's profile, the tense set of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth.

"I don't know," Dean snaps, "just forget it then." He lets go of Castiel's hand, instead gripping the wheel tightly with both hands, and Cas can see his knuckles go white, knowing that once again he's fucked things up, a sinking feeling in his chest.

"I'm sorry,' Castiel tells him, still wondering what he did and where he went wrong this time, but Dean's pissed, and that's all that matters. He bends over, hands fumbling clumsily with Dean's zipper. He'll make it up to Dean, and then it will all be okay again.

But Dean pushes him away. "Cas, stop. Just stop. You don't have to earn my forgiveness, or whatever you're trying to do. I'm not mad at you. Really, I get it. I deserve it." And Castiel shouldn't have taken as many pills as he did, because his head is spinning and he feels vaguely sick, with no idea what Dean is talking about. It's as if Dean's suddenly decided to change the rules without telling him, and now Cas has no idea how to play his game. All he wants is to make Dean happy, and he doesn't understand why it's not working, or what he's doing wrong now. He doesn't even know what to say.

Yet again he's a disappointment. Dean's silence fills the car with all of the bad feelings and the things that should be said, but can't, or won't be anyway, and Castiel tries not to cry. He's so useless, and now he can't even make Dean feel good, and soon the logical conclusion comes that Dean doesn't want him to anymore – that Dean doesn't need Cas (Which he's known all along, really), and doesn't want him anymore either.

So Castiel stays quiet, like he should have all along, and looks out his own window to hide the tears.


	3. You, Me, and my Medication

Castiel was wrong. Thirty minutes is entirely too long – even for Lucifer, and even to save the world. It's entirely too long of a time to sit in silence with the man he's so hopelessly, depressingly in love with, trying to pretend that he's okay. By the time they get to the building Lucifer's holed up in, Castiel has successfully determined that it is impossible to die of a broken heart, and also that trial and error sucks.

Besides, even he can tell that it's much too quiet at the compound. Either it's an ambush, or Lucifer's moved on, but the silence speaks of nothing good. Ever since he fell, Castiel has been learning about silence. But Dean goes over their plan anyway, and Cas does his best to focus. Except, he really can't, because all he sees is the fact that Dean is looking everywhere but at him.

"They'll never expect us to come in through the front," Dean finishes, pointing out the windows on the second floor that they'll enter through. The team jumps into movement, ladders set up against the building in a matter of seconds, but Dean hangs back, and that's when Castiel realizes that he's not going to be coming with them.

"Dean," He pleads, making sure to keep his voice low, "Let me come with you." He has no doubt that Dean is planning to go after Lucifer himself to save the rest of the team – willing to sacrifice himself if need be to take Satan down, and despite everything that's happened between them, Cas doesn't think he's ever loved Dean more than in that moment. He's so good, so brave, and Cas wants to be at his back no matter what. He'll risk it, risk anything – for Dean.

Something flashes against Dean's face too quickly for Castiel to identify, and then he sneers. "Scared Cas?" He asks harshly, and he's trying to push Castiel away again, but Cas has no defense – never has when it came to Dean – and the barbed words tear into him mercilessly.

"I would die for you Dean," He protests weakly, knowing that it's useless even as he says it, because Dean is too proud and too stubborn to back down once he's made up his mind.

"Then prove it." Dean commands harshly, grabbing Castiel by his hair and forcing him into a rough kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, and Castiel surrenders to him, pliant and willing. When Dean pulls away, all too soon, Castiel's lips are swollen and he can taste his own blood, but he's higher than any amount of drugs have ever gotten him. "I want you with the team." Dean growls, as if that settles it. Coming from him, it does.

Sometimes, Cas thinks, as Dean sets off for the rear of the building without so much as a glance back – Dean is the reason he wants to die. But he'll never, never, ever say that out loud.

He touches his lips gently with the pads of his fingers, trying to memorize every detail of Dean's kiss, his lips, his tongue, even his bite. If Dean wants it, who is Castiel to refuse? He never could say no to Dean, even when he used to be an angel.

By the time Cas rejoins the team, they've covered almost the entire building, and it's starting to look like they're alone. He falls in behind someone who looks like an ex-bodybuilder, and while he's sure they've met before at some point, he's only ever had eyes for Dean. The only people he's troubled himself to know are the ones Dean's slept with.

They clear one room, then another. There are no croats, no demons, and no Lucifer. The only indication they were ever here is the blood on the walls and the lingering stench of sulfur. It's nauseating, but not nearly as fatal as expected. They're too late.

And when Dean storms across them – he's a sight to behold. The rest of the team disappears, doing their dammed best to be invisible as they slip out to wait by the trucks. He's in one of his moods alright, and if looks could kill, there wouldn't be a thing alive within a radius of several miles at least. Which makes Cas either seriously imbalanced, or the biggest masochist the world has ever known, because he stays.

"LUCIFER!" Dean shouts at the top of his lungs, and it sounds every bit like a challenge as much as the dirtiest curse ever uttered. He slams his fist into the wall, solid concrete cracking under the pressure, but the wall doesn't budge, and Cas is about ninety nine-point-nine percent certain that Dean just broke his hand.

"Dean," He tries, pleading as usual, and knows as soon as the word leaves his lips that he's a lot more fragile than the wall, and now he's got Dean's full undivided attention. Still, he swallows hard, preparing himself, because he'd rather take the abuse than watch Dean hurt himself any day. It's worth it.

For Dean, anything is worth it. And Cas will take it with a smile.

"He's gone," Dean laughs, sounding slightly hysterical. He takes a step forwards, and Cas can't help but cringe, anticipating the hit. Dean's terrifying when he's like this, and Castiel is praying to whoever that he doesn't pull out the gun again. He should have left with everyone else, but it's too late to run now. All he can do is take it and hope Dean doesn't decide to kill him just yet.

Of course, Dean just laughs harder at his reaction, cruel and sadistic. He's out for blood and Castiel already knows he's not getting away unscathed. His breath is already coming in short little gasps, because he thought he could do this, but he can't. He's way too sober. "Well find him," Cas promises, voice cracking as he tries not to cry again. It's gonna hurt like hell.

"Yeah," Dean agrees, oddly quiet as he moves towards Castiel again, slowly, circling. He's moving in like predator on prey, and maybe that's not the worst analogy. "And in the meantime," He's behind Cas, who's shaking where he stands – but at the same time, he doesn't dare turn around.

A hand grabs ahold of the hair at the back of his neck, yanking him backwards against Dean, who promptly puts him in a headlock. "In the meantime, Luci's riding my baby brother," He growls over Castiel's soft whimpers and gasps for air. There's something hot and wet dripping onto his shoulder, and Cas knows without having to look that Dean's fucked his hand up bad. He's seen way too much blood as of late, felt it on him more times than he can count.

And now it's getting really hard to breathe, and he's struggling, but Dean is so much stronger than him that it's laughable. "You know how that feels?" Dean continues, either oblivious or uncaring to the fact that Castiel's lungs are burning. His vision is a bit fuzzy around the edges, and the saddest part is that he can take this. Has taken much worse.

"Well I'll show you Cas. I'll show you good. Then you tell me we'll find him again." His tone is deadly, promising nothing but pain, and Castiel isn't in the least surprised when Dean's free hand – the good one – reaches around him to force his jeans open. The button comes easily enough, but the zipper sticks, so in all of his undying patience Dean simply rips it open before shoving Castiel's jeans rudely to the floor.

The busted zipper is the least of Castiel's worries though. Namely, he can't breathe. He's trying to choke out a "Dean," a "please," – something, anything to get his attention, because the only reason he's still (sort of) standing is because Dean is holding him there.

He may not be an angel anymore, but someone is still looking out for him, because that's when Dean decides to shove him to the ground, mercifully restoring his air supply as he collapses onto his hands and knees. The cold cement floor is unyielding, and there will be bruises tomorrow, but Dean is already grabbing his hair again, forcing his head back to the point of pain.

Dean lines himself up, and all Cas can hear is the blood pounding in his ears and his own ragged breathing. There's no lube, and Dean is not small, by any means. It's gonna tear him apart, but Castiel can't help but be glad all the same. At least he has some use to Dean like this – on his hands and knees in the muck – because it's better than nothing at all. He'll take anything he can get.

When Dean finally pushes in, no preparation whatsoever, it feels like Cas is being ripped apart at the seams. It's just pain, pain, pain, and when he thinks it can't get any worse, Dean's moving inside him, forcing his way right through Castiel as usual. He can feel himself bleeding now, but the blood does little to ease the way. "How's that feel Cas, huh?" Dean antagonizes, and his fallen angel tries his best not to scream.

Instead, he smiles, biting down on his lip, or his tongue – Cas doesn't even know which. Because it's Dean.

"Dean," He pants, trying to make it feel good for him anyway, despite how much pain he's in, rocking back and clenching around Dean's length, "Love you," The words are practically sobs as they leave Castiel's lips, but he knows Dean can hear him.

"Fuckin' whore for it," Dean growls, giving Castiel's hair another hard tug, speeding up his already punishing pace. "I'm gonna get him Cas, gonna kill that son of a bitch – no thanks to you. 'Rather run away like all those other cowards, uh, yeah. Fucking bend over for anyone, won't you," And maybe Dean's not quite coherent, probably not even all there, because if he was, he wouldn't be saying those things. Not to Cas. No, never.

Finally, he finishes, going still inside Cas. His cum stings where Castiel's ass has been ripped apart – or at least that's how it feels. And still, he feels so empty when Dean pulls out, yanking him back up to his feet without a moments respite.

"Don't you ever say you love me," Dean snarls right up in his face, and if there's a bit of guilt Cas sees behind the rage, then he must be confused. Obviously, because the second Dean's good hand leaves his hair, it's to deliver a sharp slap to the face. Without Dean to hold him up, Castiel tumbles to the floor with the force of it, the jeans around his ankles only serving to trip him up. He lands hard, sprawled painfully on the disgusting floor, but he's not expecting any sympathy.

"Get up Damnit, fix your clothes." And Cas does, gingerly picking himself off of the floor and putting himself to rights, so they can go back out to the rest of the team and pretend like nothing happened here, and that everything is just perfect and okay.

So he'll be limping something awful, maybe have a bit of blood on the back of his jeans. He could have gotten a good shiner anywhere, and who's to say his zipper wasn't broken all along? He feels sick just thinking about it, and nearly loses what little might be in his stomach right there on the floor. But Dean is getting impatient, and it's best not to keep him waiting.

Castiel swallows down the bile in his throat and follows Dean to the door. It hurts to walk, and it'll probably hurt even more tomorrow. He's all sticky and gross, and when they finally reach the others – much too far away, and does Castiel really have to sit in the truck for another half hour, because he just might die – he can see their eyes on him.

Not one person misses the broken zipper, his bloody lip, and the bruises. And not one single person says a thing. Yet Cas can feel their eyes on him, judging him even as Dean whisks him past them as fast as Cas can possibly go, and then some. He can't help the fact that his face burns with shame. In their eyes, he's lower than dirt. He's a whore, he's a slut, he's trash, and he deserves what he gets.

But at least he's got Dean.


	4. Just Breathe

**Quicky AN: Sorry it took me so long with this chapter - I had it ready, but due to a college trip wasn't able to post until now. I hope I havn't been killing anyone with the angst (I was laughing to my sister after the last chapter that I should change the label to 'angst & tradgedy' to which she replied, 'angst & horror!' Hehe... whoops? ;)**

**Anyway, quick break from the usual angst of the 2014!verse - I hope you like!**

It's kind of depressing how much time Cas spends holed up in his cabin, avoiding the rest of the camp. He's lying face down on his bed, trying to ignore the fact that he's in pain, but he'll be okay as soon as the drugs start to kick in. He doesn't even know what he's been taking – not that it really matters though. They do what he needs them to, and that's all that matters.

Dimly, he tries to remember the last time he was actually sober, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else, but he can't and what does it matter? Nothing really matters anymore. Not life, not death, not pain – just Dean. Castiel would be lost without him, would have died a thousand times over…

Or he'd be in heaven. The thought comes unexpectedly even to him. He could be in paradise, but what is paradise without Dean? No, Castiel can't even imagine a place without Dean, no matter how bad things get. Dean's under a lot of pressure, he doesn't mean the things he says – and Cas is still way too sober if he's thinking straight.

He's about to reach for the bottle of pills again when he hears the faint noise of his bead curtain being pushed aside. "Castiel," a soft voice asks, "may I come in?" Dean. He sounds calm, a rare thing nowadays and Castiel doesn't think twice.

"Of course," He tells Dean, rolling onto his side to face him, watching as Dean cautiously makes his way towards the bed, as if Cas is a wild animal and might bolt if he gets too close.

"Oh Cas," Dean sighs, easing himself onto the bed, reaching out slowly to cup Castiel's cheek in his palm. His hands are rough and calloused, but gentle nonetheless, and Castiel leans into the gesture automatically. He must have underestimated the pills if he's getting treated to such amazing hallucinations. "I'm so sorry, you have no idea – oh Cas," His other hand is bandaged up securely, but that doesn't stop him from trailing his fingers over the bruises on Castiel's neck, learning them all over again.

And that's odd, because it looks like he's about to cry, and generally Castiel's hallucinations are a lot happier, not to mention in one piece. "I am so fucking sorry," The hallucination continues, pressing a gentle kiss to the nasty looking bruise over Castiel's other cheek, and he even smells like Dean – smoky and woodsy, with just a little bit of sweat mixed in.

"It's okay Dean," Cas insists, trying to cheer him up, because what good is a hallucination if it's not a good one? "You didn't mean it. Besides I've had worse." He leans forward, trying to capture his Dean's lips in a kiss, but it moves back.

"It's not okay Cas," and now his eyes are full of tears, a single drop escaping to land on Castiel's arm, and wow, that really feels like a tear. Cas collects it on his finger, brings it to his lips, and he can taste the slight saltiness to it. It's real. Dean's real.

"I forgive you Dean, I always will," He insists then, reaching out again for Dean, grabbing his arm so that maybe he'll stay for a little while. Dean could break his grip easily if he really wanted to, but still, it's the thought that counts. "I love you."

Dean's remaining bravado collapses after that, and then he's really crying. "Look what I did to you Cas! Don't tell me it's okay – we both know it's not." He caresses Castiel's cheek with his thumb, but there's still a distance there – a distance in the way he's holding himself, in his eyes, "I'm no good, I don't deserve you, I don't deserve your love."

"Yes you do," Castiel tries to protest, but Dean cuts him off angrily.

"I sent you in to die back there!" Dean growls, his grip tightening uncomfortably, "You all were a distraction, to get killed while I found Lucifer," For a second he looks like he's about to storm off angry, but more and more it's the intense guilt that he's not even trying to conceal.

"We didn't die," Castiel assures him, trying to make Dean see sense and at the same time not think about the implications of what he's admitting to.

"But you should have," Dean continues, obviously not knowing when to shut up, and unable to look Castiel in the eye, "and I didn't care." He can't speak for a moment after that, but nevertheless lifts Castiel's head gently so that their eyes meet again. He's not bothering to hide the pain, the guilt, or the tears that spring from them, and Castiel almost finds himself crying too, because he hates to see Dean cry. Hates it with a burning passion.

"Just – anything to see Sammy again – scares me what 'm willing to do Cas, 's all I can think about. What if I'd been there for him? I pushed him away like an idiot 'cause I couldn't see what I had right in front of me until it was too late, and now I 'm making all the same mistakes! I'm too afraid of losing you Cas – the last good thing I have left – it scares me to no end, but I couldn't live with myself in I hurt you again. I don't want to –never meant to hurt you – Sooner or later you're gonna hate me and,"

"I could never hate you Dean," Castiel interrupts, "Trust me, it's all worth it for you – you're worth it, worth anything. I love you." He says simply.

Dean looks like he might protest, but Castiel leans forwards and silences him with his mouth before he can say anything. "I love you," He repeats, pressing their lips together briefly, "always have," He moves back in so his next words are right against Dean's mouth, "always will."

Dean lets out a soft moan, parting his lips to deepen the kiss. His mouth is soft against Castiel's for once, tender and loving. Then Castiel feels him shift to lie beside him on the bed. And then Dean is really kissing him in earnest. His good hand moves up to cup the back of Castiel's neck, gently pulling him in closer.

Castiel may be a little stiff, but he obliges. This is heaven – here and now – he knows finally. He can feel the wetness of tears on Dean's face as they kiss, but it's all okay now. They're both desperate, both needy, curled up together on Castiel's bed. So Castiel snuggles in as close as he can, savoring this feeling of Dean soft and sweet, and Dean seems to like that idea just as much, lifting his broken hand to rest on Castiel's hip and pulling him even closer.

It's a perfect moment, something that hasn't happened between the two of them in much too long. But maybe it will be like this from now on – just the two of them against the world like it used to be. It will be happy, and gentle and slow. No more beatings, or threats, or torture. Maybe.

It's not long before Castiel's eyelids start to get heavy, lying safe and contented in Dean's arms. The last thing he sees before he drifts off is Dean looking at him with the most emotion Cas has seen from him in years. He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Castiel's forehead and whispers "I love you Castiel." And maybe there's hope for them yet.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, tangled up in Castiel's blanket – cozy and warm and safe. For once, Castiel isn't afraid of the man lying next to him, doesn't have nightmares. And neither does Dean.


	5. Desire for Need

**And this chapter is what I like to call gratuitous porn. I really hope it's hot enough to make up for the posting delay. I'll try to update sooner from now on, but I'm a bit busy with college apps and back to school bullshit (aka the summerwork I should have done months ago, lol) And yes, I know I'm evil. ;)**

Sunlight streams through the window, waking Cas up. It's warm and comfortable in the patch of sunshine, but even more so in Dean's arms. "Morning," He whispers, blinking lazily as he looks over at Dean.

He grins back, carding a hand through Castiel's hair. "Sleepyhead," He teases, though it's obvious he's only just woken up as well. Even more obvious though, is the insistent press of Dean's morning wood against his thigh. He can't resist a smirk as he shifts slightly, slipping his leg between Dean's and teasingly rubbing up against him.

Dean's eyes flutter shut and he lets out a low sigh. "Mmm, Cas," He leans forwards to grab Castiel's chin and pulls him in for a kiss. Their lips move together for a moment before Cas can feel Dean's tongue pressing gently at his lower lip. He opens up at Dean's insistence, feeling Dean's tongue swipe over his bottom lip for a second before delving inside to taste him, to claim his mouth as Dean's, and Dean's only.

Castiel shifts again, easing across the slight distance on the bed to bring them both closer together, and Dean moans open-mouthed into his. He rolls his hips down against Castiel's leg, denim against denim since they never bothered to undress last night. "Ugh," he breaks the kiss to say, "Cas, we can't," but nevertheless kisses him again quickly, "Supposed to be counting inventory," Their lips meet again, and Dean's hand slips down from Castiel's chin to fist in his shirt, but he still makes no move to get up.

"Chuck can do it," Cas protests breathlessly as Dean presses against him again, and his other hand is suddenly on Castiel's lower back, dragging his shirt up before dipping below the waistline of his jeans. The same jeans that are now much too tight. Dean's hands are hot against his exposed skin, but they send shivers up his spine anyway. Suddenly it's all he can do to rub back against Dean, hands flying to try and unbutton his jeans.

Dean isn't having that though. He growls low in his throat, making Castiel's cock twitch with excitement as Dean shoves him back against the bed, rolling up easily to straddle him. He grinds down against Cas as he crosses his arms to pull his shirt off, tossing it somewhere to the side of the bed before leaning forwards again and pinning Castiel to the bed by his shoulders.

Cas can feel every part of him when Dean presses even closer, bringing his head down to Castiel's neck. Then all of a sudden teeth are closing around the pulse-point in his neck, and Castiel gasps, arching up against Dean instinctively. Dean hums softly as he sucks and pulls at the skin there, marking Castiel as his. The angel can feel his tongue gliding across the raw skin there even as Dean bites down harder, deepening the bruise that's sure to form. He may have let out a noise of some sort, but it's a little hard to think, especially since Dean is still rhythmically grinding against him, pressing and releasing against Castiel's throbbing dick.

And then Dean pulls him up from where his hands are fisted around the shoulders of Castiel's shirt, so he's all but sitting in Castiel's lap, and brings their mouths together again frantically. This time it's not nearly as smooth, and their teeth collide painfully, but Castiel doesn't really care, parting his lips eagerly. His legs automatically curl in around Dean to adjust to the new position, and his hands follow suit, relishing in the downy softness of Deans hair and the warmth of his skin respectively.

Dean's hands wander as well, dropping once again to Castiel's lower back and palming the skin there, one hand spread wide to hold him in close and the other creeping steadily beneath the waistband of Castiel's jeans. Castiel's dick jumps in response and he can't hold back a shuddering moan at the finger that brushes gently between his cheeks, trying to press against Dean for more friction. He can feel Dean's torso vibrate gently for a second, and then Dean's breaking their kiss to chuckle at Castiel's reaction.

He doesn't waste time though, grabbing the bottom of Castiel's shirt and yanking it up before Cas even realizes what he's trying to do, regretfully releasing his grip on Dean for the moment so Dean can pull it over his head. That shirt quickly follows Dean's to the floor, and Cas is in no way sorry to see it go. He's already distracted by the toned expanse of Dean's chest, ducking his head in order to nip at one of Dean's perky nipples. Dean will never admit to liking that, but he doesn't have to say anything – the aborted moan that escapes his lips as Castiel's tongue dances over the nub, and the way his hands come up to stroke though Castiel's hair, say it all for him.

"Ohh god Cas," He breathes, as Cas switches his attention to the other nipple, teeth closing around it gently before being replaced by his lips and tongue again. Dean's hips stutter upwards, his turn to arch up against Castiel's mouth, and then he's pulling back. "Gonna make me fucking come," He gasps pushing Castiel back towards the bed with a hand between them, giving Cas a gentle squeeze that nearly undoes him.

"Dean, please," Cas breathes, as Dean shifts back further so that he's closer to Castiel's knees now, depriving him of that wonderful pressure. But it's okay, because not even a second later Dean's bending to undo his jeans. Cas lifts his hips obediently as Dean slides them down, pressing a kiss over the bulge in Castiel's briefs before tugging those down the same way, yanking them off completely with the jeans.

It doesn't take him much longer to shimmy out of his own jeans before lowering himself back against Castiel, his hand coming down between them to grip both cocks, stroking them together with their combined precum. "So gorgeous Cas," He whispers, licking a stripe just along his collarbone before pulling back again, taking Castiel's hand and guiding it to take over on their dicks as he reaches down between them instead.

The pad of his index finger glides across the pucker of Castiel's hole, and Cas loses his rhythm momentarily, shuddering with pleasure. Dean looks distracted all of a sudden though, glancing around the room, and it takes Cas a minute to realize that he's trying to figure out where they might have left the lube. "Oh fuck," he groans, letting his head falling back onto the pillow, "god, Dean, just do it,"

"I don't,"

"If you get up to find the lube Dean, I swear," Castiel interrupts. He's so close already, so fucking close. If he has to stop now –

Dean laughs once, but it comes out slightly strangled as his hand replaces Castiel's again, gathering up some of their precum before his hand slips down between them again. This time, he presses into Cas without hesitation, and one finger is really nothing. Castiel presses back against him, trying to take it all in, greedy for more. His hands fist in the sheets at his sides as Dean presses the second finger in, and it's a stretch now, but it still feels oh so good. There's a slight burn when Dean begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching him further while fucking them in and out, but Castiel doesn't think anything could feel bad right now. He's squirming underneath Dean, mewling his praises to Dean's hands, but still has to beg him to put the third finger in. Ugh, of all the times for Dean to be worried about hurting him!

Finally Cas can't take it any longer, "Dean, come on," he pleads, "want you in me," and this time, Dean doesn't hesitate. He grips Castiel's knees for a moment, keeping them on his shoulders as he moves to where he can line himself up. Then a finger is testing his readiness again and Castiel thinks he's going to start cursing Dean out if he doesn't get his fucking cock in him right this second goddamnit! But then the finger is gone, and Dean is guiding himself in with plenty of precum to slick the way.

When he finally bottoms out, Cas knows it's going to be quick. He's so worked up already that it's practically torture trying to hold back. Dean's hand comes around to grip his dick, jacking him in quick strokes that only speed up with his thrusts. He thumbs the head of Castiel's shaft, teasing at the slit, and that's it. Castiel spills over his stomach in thick spurts, clenching even tighter around Dean with the force of his orgasm.

Dean isn't far behind that, stuttering to a halt as he comes, filling Cas up with a "Fuck, Cas," He thrusts a few more times, cum leaking out around his cock, before finally pulling out.

"Dean," Cas moans, much too blissed out to really think beyond that, but then Dean is ducking his head down to clean him up, soft tongue lapping at the edges of Castiel's pucker, claiming the cum that trickled out. Castiel's cock twitches half-heartedly in an attempt to rise, and this time when he gasps out a "Dean," it's with a shaky voice, followed quickly by a loud moan as Dean plunges his tongue inside of him, filling him up again as he licks and sucks up his own cum.

When he raises his head finally, Dean grins wide, chuckling as the totally blissed out expression on Castiel's face before crawling up his prone body, meeting Castiel's eyes as he licks up the mess on his stomach with long, lingering strokes of his fabulous tongue.

"Dean," Cas protests breathlessly, shuddering under his continued attention. Another grin, and Dean is surging up to meet him in a final kiss, pushing Castiel's head back into the pillow as he share with him the taste of their mingled cum.

And then Castiel is blinking awake for the second time. Only now, it's cold. His pants are sticky and clinging to him as he sits up. He's alone once again. He's the only one in his bed. Dean is gone.


	6. It's All Over

"Dean?" Castiel checks, glancing around his cabin, just in case maybe Dean's up and – and what is he thinking? Of course Dean's gone. Like things would ever actually change between them? Yeah right. Cas _knows_ he should know better than to get his hopes up after all this time. Besides, he's a big boy now, and Dean has better things to do than wait for him to wake up just so they can snuggle.

The shame burns hot on his face that Castiel even let himself think for one moment that Dean would be there when he wakes up, and even dare to be disappointed by it. This is why Dean doesn't love him anymore, because he's such a needy, useless bitch. But it's too early, he can't deal with this – Castiel's head is aching, his mouth feels like a desert and how is he still so sore?

He reaches for the quickest way he knows to dull the pain of it all, to stop the frantic, racing thoughts, grabbing for the bottle of pills he keeps by his bed, but it's not there. This morning couldn't get any worse as far as he's concerned. All Cas wants right now is to get wasted, absolutely trashed out of his fucking mind. How had he deluded himself that Dean would be there? He's so fucking stupid it's unbelievable.

Luckily, there's always vodka, or gin, or whatever the hell that Cas finds himself drinking, trying to drown the part of him that loves Dean so much it hurts like a fucking – he doesn't even know, it just hurts that bad. Or at least maybe drink that part of him into submission; get it to shut up, he recalculates half a bottle later, because it's not fucking working. He trusted Dean to be there, and he shouldn't have, but he did and Dean's not, and it hurts, it just hurts.

And maybe that part is all of him – Cas loves Dean that desperately and with everything he has, because if anything that's only getting louder in his head. He doesn't want to feel it, doesn't want it smacking him in the face over and over again, that Dean left him again. The same way he's left him over and over and over again, bruised and scared and relieved and in so much pain there aren't even words. Not in any language, not even enochian.

He's stumbling around as he gets dressed, can barely see straight, and everything is spinning. And still! Still it hurts, and still Cas keeps thinking about how bad he wants Dean here to make it alright. He's getting sloppy drunk, and he doesn't even care. Maybe he'll go find Dean and give him a piece of his mind – tell Dean how fucking much he's in love, and how much he needs Dean. Maybe Dean will feel bad for him for once, reduced to this mess over him. Only him, always him. The bastard.

The alcohol is hitting hard, but it's not enough, it's not fucking working. It's supposed to make Cas feel good, but it's not. He's depressed and lonely and he wants – needs – Dean so bad, but he wasn't here and he still isn't here and Cas can't take it anymore.

Maybe that explains why he's staggering his way out of his cabin like any self-respecting drunk probably would have refrained from doing, calling out to Chuck and catching onto his arm to keep from falling over as he overbalances. "Dean," he slurs, "Where's Dean?" clinging onto the ex-prophet in order to stay up straight. The world is tipping back and forth, and now Castiel's getting nauseous, but he's on a suicide mission.

If Chuck looks alarmed, Cas doesn't notice, simply repeats himself again. He needs to find Dean, right now. "Uhh," Chuck stammers, "He uh, Dean's working on a demon right now Cas, you can't see him just yet. Can it wait?"

No, it can't wait. Cas lets go, taking baby steps away from Chuck. He can find Dean on his own, he knows where they bring the demons. All of a sudden, hands are wrapping themselves around his arm, and Chuck is there at his side. "I'll take you Cas, okay?" At least someone in this camp is helpful – not trying to take Dean away from him like all those other sluts.

"Now," He tells Chuck, leaning on him a bit more than he had been a second ago, because walking is kind of difficult when everything keeps moving.

Chuck keeps his word and they reach the building eventually. By this point, Castiel feels like an angel again. He's floating, courageous; he can take down anything, including the door. It flies open with a disproportionately loud bang, and he strides forwards, almost balanced, scanning the room for Dean. Finally, he sees him, back to the door, working on some demon that's not worth half the time Dean's spent on him. Cas would gladly take the greedy bastard's place.

"Dean," he nearly yells; doesn't care that there are at least three other people in the room and Chuck is busy muttering pleas and apologies to everyone who will listen. He has no idea what he wants to say, forgetting that he'd meant to come up with something on the way over here, but Castiel just forges right through anyway, "Why'd you leave me?" It comes out a bit slurred, but he's understandable.

Dean turns, and there's a hard clench to his jaw, but now they can talk. "You should have stayed," He adds, challenging Dean to say something, to tell Cas that he'd meant to, that he would have, but… Castiel knows that too by now. There's always a 'but'. And it's rarely his anymore.

The demon cackles from where it's chained when Dean doesn't say anything, just continues to stare. "Say something," Cas demands, moving forwards somehow until he's right up in Dean's personal space. "What slut were you off with now? Who else do you have 'a thing' with that's better than me?" The jealousy burns, bubbling up from his chest with force that surprises even Cas. It's poison, and it hurts to have it in him, but it does no better lingering there in the air between them.

"Cas, you're making a scene." Dean tells him through clenched teeth, voice low and angry sounding.

"I don't care," Castiel replies, the demon's laughter assaulting his head. "I love you, I, Dean, don't leave me please," He's starting to get confused. Things aren't going how they were supposed to go. Dean isn't replying, not even hitting him. What went wrong?

"Chuck," Dean calls out, and why is he ignoring Cas? "get him out of here. Now." But Chuck is hurrying forwards then, apologizing profusely and tugging Castiel backwards, because he can't fight it. What just happened?

They wind up outside only a moment later, Castiel stumbling backwards into the too hot sunlight and Chuck closing the door behind them with one last apology. "What were you thinking Castiel?" He asks, and that's a good question. A really good question. One that Cas doesn't have an answer to, and probably never will.

It's too much effort trying to stay on his feet, swaying in place, and so Cas lets himself slide down the rough wall, not caring about splinters or whatever else could happen, curling up into a ball against the wood. He feels miserable – sick and confused, and he still doesn't know why Dean was being so mean to him, or why he left, but it's gonna hurt even more later if he ever manages to figure it out.

Eventually, Chuck leaves, because really, he has better things to do than babysit Dean's drunken whore, and it's not like Castiel is talking to him anyway. In fact, he feels like he'll be sick if he dares to open his mouth. There's screaming from inside, and it fit's what's happening in Castiel's head and gut all too well. He feels like he's the one being wrenched apart by the seams, wishing he could be where that demon is now if it meant having Dean look at him, touch him. He's pathetic, and he knows it.

"You're still keeping that _thing_ around?" The demon shrieks with as much laughter as it does pain. "Looks like you need to train your bitch better Dean!" It's obvious that it's talking about him, and the fact that Cas can hear it, well. "I always knew angels weren't that bright, but really? It hasn't gotten the hint that,"

"Enough," Dean's low growl cuts it off, but the demon isn't done.

"And I used to think you knew when to cut your losses! I just wish I could be there when you finally cut it loose to –"

Its words are cut off again in screams of agony, but the damage is done.

**I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter, whether or not everything got said... Yeah, I have no idea.**

**I've been toying around with having the next chapter from Dean's point of view though - let me know what you think.**


	7. Nothing to do with Meaning It

**This chapter went through so many re-writes, I can't even begin to say... I really think it came out good though. As usual, reviews are love - let me know what you think!**

At first, Dean's pissed. Well, beyond pissed. Not only did Cas just effectively ruin the mood of his torture session and turn him into a joke in front of the demon he's supposed to be intimidating, but he also made him look bad in front of the other people here in camp – the same people who look to him to make the rules and keep the camp running smoothly. If he can't even control his boyfriend… Dean knows what they're all thinking, and it's not going to help him with leading the camp. Other people will want to break the rules, accuse him of favoritism – which is true of course – but if Cas can get away with it, who's to say no one else can? Damnit. He's so screwed.

It's a joke to the demon, and to Kyle, Jamie, and Risa, though at least the humans know better than to say anything. No one dares to talk to Dean about Castiel, and that's the one silver lining at least. The demon's taunting on the other hand…

"Say one more word about Castiel and I will end you." Dean warns it, meaning every word, because really: he has enough crap to deal with and feels bad enough as it is. He doesn't need anyone else telling him what a horrible person he is. He's worked that out for himself already, hilariously enough. "Now tell me. Where is Lucifer?" It sounds every bit the threat it is, but some demons just won't take the hint.

"Was it worth it Dean, corrupting an angel?" The demon starts to ask, and his tone suggests that there's more to the question, but Dean cuts him off with the demon blade to its heart.

It gurgles and dies, and luckily for them, the people he's with know better than to say anything about Dean killing their only current lead, even if it had been useless so far. He's let his temper get in the way of his better judgments again, but that's nothing new. If it was, things with Cas wouldn't be nearly this bad.

"Clean this mess up," he tells Kyle and Jaime tiredly. Everything's his fucking fault these days. He can't find Lucifer, can't save Sammy, and can't save the world. He's just barely managing to keep everyone in line and the camp running somewhat smoothly, and apparently things couldn't be worse with Cas. What the fuck has he done now? And who knew running a goddamn camp could be so hard?

"Risa, please check with Chuck to see how we're doing on supplies." The subtext: _And tell him never to let Cas out of his goddamn cabin_, perfectly clear.

"Will do boss." She tells him even as he's heading out the door. "And umm, I need to speak to you later – privately, if it's not too much trouble." Of course. She'll badger him about Cas for a bit, ask him when he'll finally leave him for her, (never), and he'll put her mouth to better use. Safe to say they've done this before. Ugh, he even feels like a total asshole.

What he wants right now is to see Cas – to ask him what the hell he was thinking, (Wasn't), apologize, (though he probably won't), and just hold him, because he misses his angel. As more than just a lover too. It would be totally understandable if Cas never wanted Dean to touch him again. Dean deserves that and more, and the fact that it's his entire fault just makes him miss Cas even more. He misses the old Cas. The Cas that would call him out on his bullshit; the Cas that's not so strung out on drugs (to keep from having to face Dean sober).

Yeah, even that's his fault, and he knows it. Which is probably why he's let him carry on with this for so long, when all Dean wants is to see him sober again for once. It's not like Dean is in any position to even be indulging his wants when it comes to Cas though… Goddamnit – he just misses his best friend.

But Cas won't want to see him now, and if Dean's being honest with himself, he doesn't want to see Castiel either. Guilt is churning in his gut at the thought of pushing Cas away this morning, even if he had to in order to keep control of the situation. It was a jerk move, especially when he knew Cas was already upset. And Castiel is probably either passed out by now or even further under the influence. Dean can't stand to see him like that, though maybe for penance it could count for something?

And now he's wandering around the camp aimlessly, trying to look busy enough that no one will try to talk to him. There are a million things he should be doing right now, but he just can't focus. Dean's mind just keeps on running in circles: first to Castiel's hurt, confused expression when Dean turned him away like a badly behaving child, and then to how much of a fuckup he is. It's a downright miracle he's managed to hold the camp together for this long at all if his personal life is anything to go by.

So, to block it all out, he goes to Risa's cabin. Might as well get this over with now.

"What the hell was that earlier?" She asks the second Dean's in the door, cutting right to the chase as usual. Dean just sighs. They've been through this shit too many times now.

"I have no idea," He tells Risa, and even as the words leave his lips they sound like a betrayal. (Liar. He had every right to be pissed at you.) "Cas just gets like that sometimes." (Yeah, when you lead him on and treat him like crap.)

"You spent the night with him? I thought you didn't want to toy with him." One of the first excuses he'd used to keep from sleeping with her, and now she's turning it right back around at him. Lovely. "When are you going to tell him about us?" (Oh Cas knows alright. He knows a lot better than you where things stand, and he's the one on drugs. You are, after all, the slut he was referring to.)

"I'm not trying to toy with him Risa. We honestly had some things to discuss. He fell asleep; I didn't realize he'd expected me to stay." (Liar, liar, pants on fire.) He deliberately ignores her last question. As far as Dean is concerned, there is no 'us' of any kind.

She shrugs. "Whatever Dean. The demon was right though – he's completely useless. Better to just put the guy out of his misery instead of leaving him pining for the angel he used to be. His powers are never coming back at this point." Just how do you know so goddamn much? Dean wants to yell at her. He wants to kill the bitch for even suggesting such a thing. (I hope you burn in hell for even thinking that!)

But instead, his voice is a low, threatening command. "Don't say things like that."

"People have started to talk," She warns him, trying to pretend that she's being reasonable, and of course they have. (Don't you talk about my angel!)

"I'll figure something out," Dean promises. (Lies.) He really didn't want to be thinking of Cas right now, but it's looking like that's all he can think about. And maybe Risa's right in looking skeptical.

"Mmm, I've missed you," She says finally, when it's apparent that Dean's ended that conversation in no uncertain terms. Her hands find the edges of his collar as she steps forwards, her lips against his less than a second later. And Dean goes with the program.

They wind up in her bed, thankfully abandoning any pretext of conversation. The sex is unremarkable, not like with Castiel, and yet Dean finds himself thinking about Cas way too much. What the hell is he even doing with Risa? (You complete asshole.) She's beautiful, sure. She's strong, loyal, a good fighter, and good in bed (But she's not Cas, moron.)

When he comes finally, Dean has to bite back the name that's really on his lips, on his mind, and everywhere else. (Castiel!) And when Risa turns to him, snuggles up against him like Cas always did after sex, or really anytime they were alone, or he could get away with it…

She says "I love you." And it's more of a whisper than anything else, and Dean isn't even sure he was supposed to hear that. But he freezes up all the same. (No! No you don't. You're not who I love. What am I doing here?)

And then he pushes her away, getting to his feet and tugging his clothes back on in a hurry. This isn't where he's supposed to be. He doesn't love her. He's in love with Castiel. No matter what: it was, is, and will always be Cas. Cas, not Risa. Cas was the one he cried over, the first person he's ever admitted to being in love with, the one he's drawn to time and time again.

"This was a mistake," He tells her coldly, and there'll probably be hell to pay for that later, but it's true. (Took you long enough!) He has to find Cas.

Despite her protests, he leaves without a backward glance. Cas, he keeps thinking, and hopefully he hasn't fucked this up beyond repair this time. (Cas, I love you, I really do. I meant what I said last night. I don't deserve you, but if you'll still have me, I love you I love you I love you. I can't say it enough. I'm an ass, and I suck, but I hope you'll forgive me anyway, because you're not all I've got, but without you the rest means nothing, not even my life. I should have stayed, and I'm sorry, and I love you more than anything. Maybe – and it scares me to admit it – maybe even more than Sam.)


	8. Requiem for an Angel

**Wow - sorry it took so long to upload. Let it go on record that I hate school, and that senior year + college applications are brutal. Oh well... Trippy-ness ahead. Beware lots of bad hallucinations/hellish imagery.**

Cas may be a drunk; he may be a lush, an addict, whatever, but it's been a long time since he's been this out of it. He's gone – spinning, dizzy, and he thinks he's laying in bed, but at the same time isn't really sure. He's been hallucinating on and off. Hell, he's not even sure if he's conscious at the moment, and if he is, he won't be in another minute, or maybe he's about to be… it's all a mess of fuzzy things that make no sense.

Yeah, he'll regret it, but whatever. Right now it's all okay for a minute, even though it's starting to get a bit scary. Cas has no idea what he wound up taking, what's doing what to him, and he feels almost paralyzed. That's never a good thing.

There's nowhere to run then, when the monsters show up – looming over him, cackling, giggling, grinning and bearing their teeth. Then come the demons to join them, acid smiles, slithering across his body, and Cas thinks he's shaking, but can't really be sure. He has no way to tell – can't figure up from down, wrong from right, real from fake from hallucination from nightmare. And it's terrifying. And he can't move, can't scream, can't make it stop.

The world is spinning and Cas just wants to get off. He'd commit suicide just to end the nightmarish visions, but lucky – or unluckily – for him, he can't figure out how for the life of him. Don't you need a gun, a knife, something? He doesn't have one, can't see one, and doesn't know how to get one. The demons taunt him for that, making obscene chomping motions with big horrible teeth, and then they're back to pantomiming. They're ripping something apart – him? No – they're ripping the wings off of an angel.

It hits much to close, and Castiel can feel the pain as if his own long gone wings were being ripped off once more as he screams for Dean. It's as is his throat's been cemented shut though – he's trapped inside his own meat suit. No sound escapes him, but inside he's screaming. "Dean! Help me! Save me! Dean!"

Dean saved him before, has saved him time and time again, so where is he now? Something is digging its claws into his chest, going for Castiel's heart. Needles are piercing into his skin with an electric charge, and he's in so much pain there's no way he's conscious. Or is he? Is this real? Has the camp been invaded? Is that ghoul trying to rip him limp from limb really there? What about Dean? "Dean!"

All it is, is pain and panic and blood. Everywhere Cas looks is dark with evil and bloodshed, everything he feels is either tearing him apart, or soft and wet enough to be his own insides. He can't move, can't scream – and his mouth is filled with bile and blood and sulfur, choking him, consuming him, turning him. He's spinning again then, falling – no, plunging toward his certain death, but there's nothing to grab onto. Cas is no angel, he doesn't deserve to fly. He plummets, molten hot like a comet, trying, screaming uselessly to free himself from this fatal trajectory.

Something cackles, and it's coming toward his face, claws stretched out long to catch every bit of skin. "Cas?" it snarls at him, ripping him apart, and there are pins and needles underneath his skin where it touches – hot and itchy and stinging like poison. Where is Dean? He needs him – needs him now! After all he's done for him… "Dean!"

"What is it?" The thing cackles, raking its claws back over his face, "Cas, you're burning up!' It sounds gleeful as it taunts him with that information, as if Castiel didn't know that he was on fire. As if he doesn't know that he's fallen into the blackest, meanest pit of hell without Dean there to save him.

"G-go!" It's painful to force the word out, but somehow, Cas manages, tasting the fresh gush of blood as he tears his own throat apart to be heard. He can't remember the words, can't remember a prayer, but the only name he needs for salvation finds its way to his lips. "Dean!" He spits it like it's a curse, because to these creatures of the dark, it is. His golden, beautiful savior's name should strike as much fear into them as it does into everyone on earth.

"Leave!" He commands, and his voice is getting stronger, he can almost hear it past the buzzing and screaming that fills his ears. "Go away!"

"Castiel," it hisses, drawing close again as if to strike, raising a hand and Castiel is defenseless. He still can't move – paralyzed – on the rack to be tortured by this creature. Its long claws curve up into the ever-present shadows, tipped and dripping with bright crimson. It's his blood, his life on the thing's blades and Castiel is terrified. But he holds close the one burning point of hope he has, so bright that it hurts as it burst from his chest – his last defense.

"Leave me alone!" He means to scream, but it comes out a choked and garbled cry. Nevertheless, it thinks better of touching him again, drawing back its paw filthy with Castiel's remains, evil eyes glinting with yellow embers as it draws back studying him. It plans to attack again.

Cas is losing strength, he can't keep this up. He's weak, he's in pain, and where is **his** angel to save him from the pit? It's been dark all along, clogged with the shadows of hellfire and demons alike, but now the darkness is pressing in even further. The demon raises its claws again, and that's going to be the end, and Castiel knows it, but it suddenly halts, mid swipe. Has Dean arrived? Cas wonders hopelessly for his savior, but no one appears. Instead, the demon continues to contemplate him, picking and choosing the best places to carve out. The demon looks like Dean.

Something's burning inside of his chest again as the demon turns and vanishes, swirling out of existence as fast as it had come upon him, leaving Castiel there to bleed out and die like an animal. It burns. He tries to yell after the one with the knives. If Dean isn't coming, then it's because he doesn't need Cas anymore, and he's not going to be saved. If Dean doesn't want him anymore, then Cas doesn't want to be saved. Why won't the demon like Dean just rip his heart out already and let him die in peace? But no, that'd be too good for him.

He was an angel, and forsook heaven to follow his foolish, lying, traitorous heart. He must die a traitor's death – on a cross where he can't tell up from down, wrong from right, real from fake from hallucination from nightmare. It's terrifying, and it's not going to – no, never – never going to stop.

It fades slowly, like life after a deathblow. And when it's done, Cas has just enough energy to pull himself to the side of the bed before he's sick all over the floor. Of all the things – his heart, his mind – even his body's a traitor.

**Well... I have no idea how this chapter is going to go over with y'all. Please review, and let me know if you figured out what was really going there! (And yes, that is a challenge.) XD**


	9. Icarus

**Wow, sorry this took so long. This was a difficult chapter to write - and I almost threw an orgy in there since it's been way too long with no smut, but it just wouldn't cooperate with me. Lol.**

**Warnings: Motivational speaking ahead, sort of... (Since I hear someone's got it out for them these days!)**

Dean didn't come see him.

If he was honest, Cas had no idea what the hell he'd done after he'd woken up alone that day. Hell, he wasn't even sure what day it was, or how long ago that had been. It was all just one big, blurry haze that could have been a day, a week, maybe even a month. But it was a big, blurry haze devoid of the one thing that would have made it okay.

He honestly felt pathetic – losing so much time in a god-even-knows-what induced haze. And apparently Chuck had been being sent to check up on him now, probably to make sure he didn't overdose, or choke and asphyxiate on his own vomit. To think Cas used to see humans as disgusting creatures. The irony would have been amusing if he didn't feel like absolute shit, or if it was Dean pointing that out, teasing him for being such a lush.

Something bad had happened between them though; Cas knew it without needing to remember. Even without the bad feeling in his gut, it wasn't like anything had been going well between them for a while. Why would that suddenly change? Castiel was just so sick of it all of a sudden, so tired and worn out from all of the fighting and the drinking and the fighting some more. Why hadn't he seen this before?

Maybe it was time to re-evaluate. Castiel knew without a doubt that he couldn't go through another bender like that, when it had been half-suicide in the first place. If there was a next time, he'd wind up doing it right, and surprisingly, Castiel realized that he wanted to live. He'd been an angel once, and now he was reduced to this: worshiping the very ground that Dean walked on when all it led to was bruises and brokenness. And that wasn't living either. Dean used to respect him, used to care for him, and Castiel couldn't even pinpoint when that had changed.

Still, he should have known better. He'd loved his father with the same passion – had been willing to die for his cause, accept his orders without question – and he'd been let down. God had left him all alone to fall to earth, broken. Where Dean had picked him up.

Dean, who'd had his own issues with his father, who found it so hard to trust, to love. The one being on this planet who could possibly understand him, who was just as afraid, just as unsure, and maybe even more righteous. Or at least that's what Castiel had thought.

And maybe Dean had been that man, but he wasn't anymore. Castiel had seen that light in him fade with his brother's surrender, but he'd clung to Dean even tighter, trying to bring the light back to him. Maybe that was where Castiel had gone wrong. Maybe he couldn't bring that light back, and maybe Dean would never be happy again without his Sammy. The truth there was overwhelming, the words echoing in Castiel's head over and over and over again.

_You're not the man I thought you were._

With it came anger. Castiel had never felt the fires of heaven burn as brightly as his hatred in that moment for Dean – no, the lie he'd believed to be Dean, the man he'd constructed for himself. Dean is human, imperfect, fallible, but the fact that Cas had allowed himself to believe in the man past all sense of reason, thinking without thought that he was perfect… It was blasphemy what he'd felt for Dean, and he'd paid the price. He truly did deserve what he'd gotten.

An angel's wings can not be constructed from feathers and wax, or even from flesh and bone. Not even love can weather the storms up in heaven, or attempt to tame the fires of hell. Yet Cas had been naïve enough to believe that Dean could restore him – that their love was more powerful than the earth, than heaven, hell, destiny – all comers. Now he knows better.

It's obvious to him then what has to be done. He lights the candles around his cabin, cleansing the place with sage incense to rid it of the smell of his sickness. It's time to start fresh, to center himself, and to stand up for himself. He'll be in love with Dean until the day he dies, but Dean is only human; he can't save Cas.

Castiel will have to do that for himself.

He lowers himself down to the floor of his cabin, easing into a meditative position. It's not going to be easy, but he has to do this. He can't love Dean while using him as a replacement for god. It's not the same, and it shouldn't be. It feels like his mind is finally clear for the first time in a very long time with that epiphany. It feels like flying, even if Castiel has become a child of the earth.

The bead curtain jingles suddenly, announcing an intruder, and jolting Castiel out of his shallow trance. When he turns, he sees Risa there, frozen in the doorway. She looks surprised to see him up and well. Truly well, for the first time in a long time. The energy is flowing through his body, and it's impossible to be angry at her. She is, after all, human too. So he smiles as he greets her. "Risa, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Castiel," she returns, and then hesitates. She doesn't need to continue – Castiel can see her intentions burning beneath her skin and in her eyes. She's a woman in love, and Dean has made a mess. She wasn't prepared for a confrontation, but she's strong; she won't back down from one. "Dean was in my cabin last night," She blurts, and from her expression, she hadn't meant to be quite so forward.

"I know," Castiel lies, trying to keep up his serene exterior, because it's gone from him with those words. He should have known, and yet it stings just the same, new resolutions or not. Still, he tries to keep up the exterior over his inner turmoil. He doesn't want Risa to see how much it hurts him, and maybe it's good practice for Dean, or Risa will tell Dean just how calm he was, and then Dean will be jealous and want him back. It's counterproductive to everything he's just vowed himself, but if it means Dean…

"Back down," She warns him, apparently deciding to just roll with the aggressive stance she'd mistakenly begun with. It's not like there's any good way to say it, and Castiel just wishes that he could be in her position instead. The phrase "the grass is always greener," comes to mind. "Dean doesn't want you anymore; he's with me now."

The curtain clatters behind her as she leaves, barely giving Castiel a chance to process her words before she's gone. It's what he's always feared – he's too late. The grace-like feeling has left him as quickly as it came, the proof that he is indeed human in the jealousy twisting up his insides with the loss. He'd give anything to be the one saying those words to her instead.

He wants to curl up into a ball and drink himself into oblivion, or at least until he forgets to care anymore, or hurt, because hey, that'd be nice. But he doesn't.

Instead, Castiel forces himself to take a deep breath and remain there on the floor, attempting to relax back into himself. He was once an angel of the lord. No matter how pathetically weak he feels right now, he was strong once. He was a warrior. And now Castiel steels himself, because he is going to fight.

Even when it may be in short supply, an angel's wings are made from faith. Faith that can temper the fires and come through the forge stronger from the experience. He'll make Dean believe in him again as he did once upon a time, an angel in the midst of hell.

**Let me know what you think! Everytime you review, an angel gets it's wings! (Haha - sorry, couldn't resist!) :D**


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